Anima Desiderium (Soul's Desire)
by elizabeth.amber
Summary: In which a soul mate potion has unexpected side effects, and Harry is thrown into a situation where he has the chance to fix everything... or damage it all beyond repair. Harry/Sirius SLASH timetravelfic
1. Chapter 1

(The Soul's Desire)Anima's Cupiditus

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Disclaimer: If you could only hear my attempt at a British accent...

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AU things/things that I've changed that you might need to know:

1. Snape didn't die. I mean, honestly, the man's not an idiot: he would have to know that one of Voldemort's often used ways of torturing his followers was by setting Nagini on them, and that his death by Voldemort was pretty much imminent as soon as he got hold of the Elder wand, so I would think he (Snape) would have some sort of antivenin that he would take to prevent such an attack from killing him.

2. The pairings in this story don't follow the canon, so if you don't like, don't read.

3. This is the Golden Trio's seventh year. The way I see it, everyone's school year when Voldemort was in charge didn't exactly give them the ideal education, so everyone started back at the beginning. Ie: Ginny and Luna are in sixth year, the Golden Trio, Neville, Lavender Brown, and co. are in seventh.

4. Snape is still the potions teacher, which will be obvious by the first paragraph. Remus didn't die in the final battle, and he teaches DADA.

5. Ah, yes, one more thing: Dumbledore did die, but as his portrait remains in the Headmaster's office, he still helps McGonagall with the lesson plans sometimes, hence the potion they shall be making. :D

As for the rest, well, those are the plot twists that make the story interesting. ^^ So read on!

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Chapter One

Harry and Ron were sitting beside each other, talking animatedly about the upcoming Quidditch match (Gryffindor vs. Slytherin) when the Potions Room's door flew open and a severely agitated-looking Professor Snape stormed into the classroom. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were narrowed angrily as he reached his desk and faced the class.

"Today," he barked at his cowering students, "you will be attempting a potion that is far beyond your level of comprehension. I have informed Headmaster Dumbledore of such quite thoroughly, yet he continues to be pigheaded about the whole notion, and therefore, you shall be making a potion known as Anima Desiderium. Who can tell me what this potion does?" His opaque eyes slid over the class coldly, blatantly ignoring the one hand waving frantically in the air. After a minute, he was forced to acknowledge the student who competed with two others for the position of Snape's Most Loathed Student. He growled, his voice oily and disdainful as he said, "Of course Miss Granger knows. Granger?"

Lowering her hand and blushing slightly, the somewhat bushy haired brunette cleared her throat. "It means Soul's Desire. It shows the drinker the person with whom they would be most compatible in every way. Many people refer to it as the Soul Mate Potion," she recited in a firm voice.

The Slytherins snickered across the room as Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. "That is correct, Miss Granger."

Gryffindors and Slytherins alike gave a little start; even though Snape had more than proven his allegiances during the final battle, his students were still a little shocked that he had toned down a bit and didn't take points off from Gryffindor every time one of them breathed too loudly.

"The instructions" –he flicked his wand—"are on the board. You will be making this potion on your own, and anyone who feels the need to share information will find themselves becoming well-acquainted with the dirty cauldrons tonight in detention." At this, his gaze slid pointedly between Hermione and Neville, the latter seemingly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "You have two hours. Begin."

The classroom became chaotic as students scrambled toward the front of the room, each desperate to get to the best ingredients first. Though most still despised potions (and the teacher, to a degree), none of the students could help but feel thoroughly intrigued at the thought of finding someone who would supposedly be their soul mate.

All except, of course, the three teens who had remained seated during the stampede. Green, brown, and blue eyes exchanged amused, slightly bored looks. Everyone with half a brain (and even considerably less, since Goyle was also aware) knew that Ronald Weasley belonged with Hermione Granger, and that Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World and Boy-Who-Cannot-Die, belonged with Ginny Weasley. But still, this potion counted as a grade, and there was absolutely no way Hermione Granger would ever purposely not do well on something that was graded. Or on anything, really. And as this potion was one that she hadn't brewed before, it was with a grudging excitement that she strode up to the supply cupboard, dragging her friend and boyfriend along behind her. She spent the next several minutes gathering the best ingredients she could, surreptitiously nudging better quality ones toward her potion-clueless friends.

Finally, each student was back at his or her desk, and everyone hurriedly got to work. The Golden Trio put up defenses around their potions almost reflexively as soon as they sat down: Hermione and Ron cast a strong Protego around their work spaces, while Harry cast a Protego with a mild Confundus charm woven into it. Normally, their efforts in protecting their potions would have been very necessary, as they were just a few feet away from a group of Slytherins with rather uncanny aim. But today, not a single thought of sabotage crossed anyone's mind, as they were all very intent on finishing the potion as quickly and perfectly as possible.

As the students worked with an unusual diligence, Snape walked around the room, explaining the potion in detail. "This potion is one of the most volatile potions known to wizardkind. If you add three porcupine quills instead of two, it will explode. If you stir it twice counterclockwise, once clockwise after adding the honey water instead of twice clockwise, once counterclockwise, it will explode. Need I say what will happen if you add the crushed moonstone before you add the shredded basil leaves? Smith! Put that essence of atropa down this instant and reread, assuming you even read them to begin with, the fifth line of step three. I shall be very displeased if the room ends up a giant crater." Snape glared at the student in question, who paled and spent the next ten minutes reviewing the instructions on the board.

"As I was saying, this potion is highly volatile, as I stressed to Dumbledore when he told me that I should add it to the lesson plans, but many have deemed the trouble of brewing it wholly worth it after seeing the results brought on after drinking it. This is a potion that can neither be lied to nor fooled. Even if the drinker remains utterly oblivious to his or her soul mate, the potion will reveal their soul's deepest desire in a way that will leave no doubt. Many have found that their other half is often someone completely unexpected, even unwelcome. This has caused many duels to break out; so many, in fact, that the Ministry has declared the potion illegal and that anyone who even attempts to brew it shall be sentenced twenty years in Azkaban."

Many of the students froze and looked at Snape incredulously, a few giggling nervously in the hopes he was kidding.

"But since when has Albus ever cared anything about the legality of something?" No one heard the underlying fondness in the potion master's voice as most of them cared terribly about the legality of things and were too busy worrying. However, having been through classes with Snape before, they continued brewing after a few second's pause, all thinking they would rather face twenty years surrounded by soul-sucking Dementors than the professor's wrath if the potion was not completed.

The time ticked by slowly. Several students found that they had added the wrong ingredients or had missed a crucial step, but were saved by Snape, who quickly cast an exceptionally powerful Protego around the cauldron to keep the explosion contained. Students whose potions blew up were given zero marks and were told to pull their seats up against the walls and watch the others. Finally, after two long hours, Snape called time. He conjured vials for those who had finished, and performed an Evanesco on the potions of those who didn't.

"These will be marked and graded based on the accuracy of your potions. Only those whose potions were brewed perfectly will test them the next time we meet here. Class dismissed." As soon as he spoke that last sentence, the bell rang, sending everyone scrambling toward the door, for once in their lives bubbling in anticipation for the next potions class.

:.:.:.:.:

Remus Lupin looked at his class with equal parts confusion and amusement. The students, composed of Slytherins and Gryffindors, seemed restless and impatient, less than enthralled with the DADA lesson they were currently supposed to be focusing on. They were so out of it that no one noticed when their professor stopped informing them about the Cerberus and began a random speech filled with many weird, random facts that would have made Dumbledore proud.

"A duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one can give an explanation as to why." Nothing.

"Turtles can breathe through their butts." No one even blinked.

Trying one last time, he stated, "On average, people fear spiders more than they do death." Ronald Weasley twitched slightly, but other than that, the class maintained its zombified state. Sighing loudly, Remus shut the book from which he had been reciting facts about the many headed Hell-Hound with a loud bang, finally startling the students from their reveries.

"Alright, what's going on with everyone? Usually my classes find this subject at the very least slightly interesting."

Hermione raised her hand. "Sir, we have potions next and—"

"Ah, yes," Lupin interrupted, "Anima Desiderium. Albus and Minerva said something about that in passing earlier this week. How many of you managed to complete the potion?"

Among the few who raised their hands were Ron, Harry, Hermione, Draco Malfoy, and, surprisingly enough, Neville Longbottom. The DADA professor nodded, surprised and pleased at the amount of students who were able to complete such a difficult potion. But underneath that, he felt a slow building dread. He opened his mouth to comment on the potion, but was interrupted by the bell signaling the end of class. As the students filed out towards the dungeons with such enthusiasm it would have caused Sirius to have a coronary, he cast a worried glance at the Golden Trio. He knew several carefully buried secrets would be brought to light by this potion. After all, he, more than anyone else, knew that not everything was always as it seemed.

:.:.:.:.:.:

Harry dropped his book bag on the floor and pulled his seat up to the table with a screech echoed loudly by everyone else. For the first time in his history at Hogwarts, he was actually looking forward to a Potions lesson taught by Snape. Of course, in his sixth year, he had enjoyed Potions immensely: with Horace Slughorn and a little …ok, a lot of help from the Half-Blood Prince, he had excelled in the class. Naturally, Snape had made his first mission as the reinstated Potions Master confiscating his old book from Harry, but Harry had, surprisingly, remembered a lot of the tips and notes from the book, and had so far kept towards the top of the class.

Not that he let Hermione in on that little fact. He shuddered to think what questions she would heap on him and how much more time she would want to spend in the library with him studying.

"You okay, mate? You look a little green." The remark came from his left, and he looked to see Ron staring at him cross-eyed with as much concern as he could muster while balancing his quill on his nose.

Harry waved it away with a grin as the door to the classroom burst open once again, cueing the entrance of a significantly less irritated Professor Snape, who, oddly enough, was followed by a grim-looking Headmaster McGonagall and a worried Professor Lupin.

"Class," Snape's voice, almost as oily as his hair, slithered across the room, quiet, yet reaching every student, "for this lesson, we will have, as you see, some other professors overseeing as you take the potion."

A murmur broke out in the classroom. Some poor chap had enough courage (or stupidity, however you choose to see it) to raise his voice above the others' and ask, "Why, sir?"

The black haired professor cut his gaze over to the student, who seemed realize his mistake too late. "Why, Mr. Levi? I distinctly remember going over some of the dangers posed by the potion in the last class. Or were you focused on more… important things than my lesson?"

Levi's face flushed, but he stuck out his chin. "I was paying attention, sir! I was one of the ones who concocted their potions correctly."

"Is that so?"

Harry cringed at where this was going as Levi nodded proudly, as though expecting praise from the irate professor.

"Well, then, Mr. Levi, in that case, perhaps you wouldn't mind being the first to try the potion?" Sneering at Levi's now pale face, Snape remarked, "I thought as much." Turning his attention back to the whole class, he continued. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we have Headmaster McGonagall and Professor Lupin assisting us today in case any of you demonstrate… unfortunate side effects. That being said, would anyone like to step up and be the first to try?" His gaze slid over the class, taking in the pale, nervous faces.

Harry rolled his eyes. Not five minutes ago everyone was going crazy over the chance to take the potion and see its outcome, but nobody wanted to go first. It seemed as though the class was at a stalemate. Sighing, he placed his chin in his hand and glanced over at Ron, who seemed to be having similar thoughts.

"Potter! So kind of you to volunteer!" In an instant, the greasy haired potions master was in front of Harry and Ron's table, a particularly creepy gleam in his eye and Harry's potion vial in his hand.

Harry stared up at him wide eyed as everyone looked at him sympathetically, save for the Slytherins snickering away on their side of the room. After glancing at Ron again and finding nothing but a sheepish look and a shrug, he huffed and grabbed the bottle from the almost giddy professor.

As he reached to unstopper it, Snape clicked his tongue condescendingly. "Ah ah, Potter. Front of the class. This is a demonstration, after all."

"Nice to know that my saving the Wizarding world from being taken over by a lunatic mass-murderer hasn't dampened your opinion of me at all," Harry muttered under his breath, shoving his chair back from the table and walking to the front. Snape merely grinned maliciously, obviously entertaining the hope that something would go horribly wrong, and Harry glanced surreptitiously at the vial in his hand, wondering briefly if it had been tampered with.

When he reached the front, he turned to face the class and saw the interested, eager faces of his fellow students: Ron, slightly sympathetic yet obviously bored out of his mind; Hermione, torn between anger that Harry was still being bullied by Snape and irritation that she didn't get to be the first to test the potion; Malfoy, sneering disdainfully along with the rest of the Slytherins.

"Well," he said, making as if to toast the class, "cheers!" Downing the contents in one gulp, he let out a big sigh as an indefinably sweet flavor filled his mouth and slithered down his throat. He felt the liquid pool at the pit of his stomach, growing warmer and warmer and—nothing happened. He raised an eyebrow at Snape, commenting, "Well that was rather anticlimactic."

Snape opened his mouth, no doubt ready to blame the lack of effectiveness on Harry's inability to properly concoct a simple potion, when suddenly, Snape's frown turned to an astonished 'o'. Using what looked like a great deal of effort, he plastered a forcefully calm expression on his face as he turned away and announced, "Class, Mr. Potter seems to be exhibiting one of the… rare side effects associated with Anima Desiderium. Starting from the back, please begin exiting the classroom in an orderly fashion and wait out in the hall."

The students, who having never seen what the proper response to the potion and thought all was going well, stared in shock and dawning fright as they listened to Professor Snape, who had never before asked 'please' for anything. Ever. Ignoring his request for order, they all jumped up and ran for the door as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, Harry, confused as hell, looked down, and, to his surprise, saw his body emitting a soft white light. Wide-eyed, he turned to face the teachers who seemed to be watching him expectantly.

Not seconds later, Harry doubled over in agony, with the thought that he now knew exactly what they were waiting for. He bit his lip to keep from screaming as pain ripped through his torso, leaving a trail of molten hot magma inside him. As the feeling intensified, Harry vaguely felt himself being lowered to the ground, several hands checking for vitals and feeling his forehead. Through the haze his mind was currently drowning in, he heard the hurried, worried conversation surrounding him.

"I warned you about this, Snape! You knew this would happen!" Remus's usually calm voice was frantic and accusing.

"Oh, please, mongrel. The worst I had hope—thought would happen was him finding out that he was to be linked to someone he loathed. As if I knew this would be the outcome!" Snape replied, his condescending tone not entirely covering the alarming note of fear in his voice.

"Never mind that!" McGonagall cut through sharply. "Someone alert Poppy and tell her to prepare for Potter!"

"Hold him down! He's likely to hurt himself if he keeps flailing like that!"

Suddenly, the pain intenisified and Harry felt a feeling not unlike Side-Along Apparition as the world around him seemed to constrict and flow fluidly around him. Then all movement ceased.

Through the pain and nausea, Harry heard new voices followed by frantic footsteps.

"Hey! Are you okay?!" A different pair of hands than before grabbed his face gently, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

As soon as he felt that, the pain dulled and Harry fell blissfully unconscious.

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Well, there's the first chapter! This was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but then the plot bunnies invaded my mind, and you know that never ends well. Please let me know what you think if you have the time! :D

~Elizabeth


	2. Chapter 2

Wow. I was not expecting this much of a response to this story, especially just the first chapter. Thank you so much for following and favoriting and reviewing, it means a lot and makes me want to keep on with this story :)

cloverlover: Thank you :) I'm sorry it was confusing, the first chapter was written quite a while ago and I'll have to go back and sort it all out.

curlup2cuddle: Thanks, glad you like!

whimsicalfancy: Why thank you! And quite possibly... ^^

happybunny688: Thanks :)

Ex Mentis: Soon enough? haha ^^

Disclaimer: If I own this, I'm not near as rich as I should be... Sighs.

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Burning. That was the perfect word to describe what Harry felt. A deep, searing, constant burning that hadn't let up since he'd swallowed that damned potion. Everything around him was dark, and he couldn't move, not even to open his eyes. As he lay there, skin and organs on fire, he tried to grab on to something, anything to keep him from going insane. The only thing he could summon to mind was the feeling of cool, beautiful relief those hands had brought him. Whose were they? Did he know the person whose mere touch had calmed the chaotic effects of the potion?

He had enough presence of mind to recognize that the only reason anyone could have any effect against the pain brought on by this particular potion was because that person was his soul mate. Which begged the question... who _was_ it? He thought back to the voice. When he heard it, it had sounded familiar, but in such an odd way. Try as he might, he couldn't even remember whether the voice had been feminine or masculine!

Harry that if he focused on that subject any longer, the question of 'who?' would end up driving him insane quicker than the pain, so he tried to move again. He succeeded in cracking his eyes open, which he immediately regretted as he was assaulted by a blinding white light. "Urgh..." He brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes, absently noting that he was no longer wearing his glasses.

"Oh! Albus, he's coming around!" There was a slight shuffling around him before Harry felt the telltale signs of a diagnostic charm being cast on him; Merlin knew he'd had it done on him more than enough times to become familiar with the feeling.

Through the haze, Harry recognized the fretting voice to be Madame Pomfrey. _I must be in the hospital wing... Stupid potion... What does she mean, Albus?_ "Glasses?" he croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy. He felt them being gently slipped on his face, and he blinked owlishly as his vision cleared.

"Young man, you gave us quite a scare," Madame Pomfrey chided as she moved him gently into a sitting position. "Care to tell us why a student found you passed out in the seventh floor corridor?"

Harry frowned; seventh floor corridor? He had been in Snape's room... hadn't he? "I... I wasn't. I was in the potions lab. I think I passed out after I took a potion in Sn-Professor Snape's class."

Pomfrey paused, then turned to address someone behind her. Harry watched in confusion as she moved aside and someone stepped forward in her place. The person pulled up a stool and sat next to Harry's bed, placing his hands in his lap and smiling comfortingly at Harry. "Now my boy, what's this about Professor...Snape, did you say?"

Harry stared, dumbfounded, into the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore. "Pr-Professor Dumbledore?" he stammered. "What are you doing here? You... You're supposed to be..." He trailed off, unsure if he should finish that sentence. "You're not supposed to be headmaster anymore," he finished lamely.

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side. "Interesting. Would you mind telling me what year you think this is? Madame Pomfrey believes you might have bumped your head when you passed out before."

Frowning, Harry leaned back on his elbows, the possibilities running wildly through his mind after seeing the late Professor. "1998*."

At that, Dumbledore's expression became even more interested, and his eyes twinkled even brighter. "Ah, most interesting indeed. It is, in fact, the year 1978*."

_Of course it is..._ Harry thought, closing his eyes for a few seconds. _Why the hell have I ended up here?_

"Do you think you are feeling well enough to come up to my office, Mister ...?"

"Potter, Harry Potter," he replied thoughtlessly, too tired to consider the repercussions of having someone in the past know his real name.

"I thought you might be," was the older man's reply. "At any rate, Mr. Potter, let us move this up to my office and continue this conversation in private. Tixi?"

One of the many elves that Hogwarts housed popped into existence near the foot of Harry's bed. "Yes, Headmaster sir? How may Tixi be helping yous?" she inquired in the stilted grammar Harry had come to expect from most house elves.

"Would you mind taking us up to my office? I'm not quite sure young Harry here is up to the long walk."

Before Harry could protest, the elf latched onto both of them with a surprisingly firm grip. In the blink of an eye, Harry found himself sitting in the familiar, over-stuffed chair in front of the Headmaster's desk. Glancing around, Harry felt sadness and nostalgia welling up inside him as he took in the office: all the ostentatious, comfortable furnishings, the odd magical artifacts that had yet to be broken by Harry's rant years later, and, the most notable, the absence of Professor Dumbledore's portrait among the others.

Instead, said man sat before him, calmly offering him a lemon drop. Harry declined with a shake of his head and folded his shaking hands in his lap.

"Right then. Why don't you tell me what's going on?" he requested kindly, leaning forward and placing his chin in his hands.

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"And that's how I got here, although I'm not certain why I ended up in the seventh floor corridor; the last thing I remember was taking the potion in Snape's classroom." Harry stopped and took a deep breath, having hardly paused for air in his haste to tell his strange tale.

"I see..." Albus leaned back, chewing absent-mindedly on a lemon drop. "It would appear that one of the adverse effects your Professor Snape spoke of was one no one could have expected. Assuming that the potion was brewed correctly-and I doubt that it wasn't-I believe it would be safe to say that perhaps your soul mate no longer exists in the year you come from. Would you happen to know who your soul mate is?"

Harry sighed. "I think... they may have been the one who found me... The pain from the potion stopped as soon as they touched my face." _I suppose that leaves Ginny out of the equation_. Strangely, he couldn't bring himself to really feel bad about that; perhaps that was another effect of the potion.

The twinkling came back full force. "I see... Very interesting," he mused, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative expression.

Holding in a groan, Harry asked, "Who was it?" He had missed the man dearly, but he had forgotten just how annoying his cryptic, vague answers were.

"I believe it would be best for you to simply find out on your own."

Harry stared at the man. "But-"

The headmaster held up his hand. "Sorry, my boy. I just don't think my telling you is how you're supposed to find out."

Conceding defeat, the raven haired teen slumped back into his seat with a sigh. "So, what do you suggest I do now?"

Steepling his fingers, Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. After several moments' contemplation, he said, "It is my belief... that your future... will not come to pass. Time travel is a risky business, especially for those who've been unexpectedly thrust in the past. The life you led played out the way it did because there had been no meddling in the past. Now that there is, your future is bound to change. Since, to our knowledge, it was the potion that sent you back, and the only reason it did so was to bring you to your soul mate, it would be unlikely that it would send you forward to a time where your soulmate no longer exists."

Harry bit his lip, staring wide-eyed at his hands. "So... My friends, everything that happened in my school years, my entire _life_ is not going to happen?" he asked in disbelief.

The old mad nodded, then a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "I wonder... Mr. Potter, you say that other classmates completed this potion as well?"

Still overwhelmed at the fact that his life had effectively been erased from existing anywhere other than his memories, Harry nodded numbly.

"And were they close to you?" he prompted.

Shaking himself slightly, the teen thought back to those whom Snape had said would test their potion in the next class: himself, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Draco... "Most of them were. There was this one... I don't even remember his name, we didn't know each other at all."

"I see..." Dumbledore murmured. "Well. It's getting late, and you would probably like some rest, yes?" At Harry's nod, he pulled out a quill and some parchment, scribbling something down. "There, that should take care of your sleeping arrangements. The boys' dorms are full, I'm afraid, so you'll have to make do with one of the single rooms."

"Sounds perfect to me," Harry replied, smothering a yawn. _I don't think I could face my parents or Sirius or Remus tonight anyway._ He deliberately didn't think about what he might do if he saw Wormtail.

"Tixi." The elf popped into the room, an expectant expression on her wrinkled face. "Would you please show Mister Potter to the empty single room on the fourth floor, the one with the view of the lake?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Good. Now, Mr. Potter, I will come to your quarters tomorrow morning, say around ten, and we will discuss further what shall be done. I know that this must be a lot to digest right now, but do try to get a good night's rest in." He smiled genially before gesturing to Tixi. The small elf then latched herself firmly to Harry's arm and seconds later had him standing in front of a portrait of a regal looking woman.

"This is being your room, young sir, and that is being your picture lock. You is to be giving the lady your password before yous can go in," Tixi explained in a kind, almost doting voice.

Harry observed the picture thoughtfully: the lady in the portrait sat on a plush, dark green love seat and wore red robes which pooled around her feet. "I suppose... marauders should do for now. I doubt anyone would guess it," he mused aloud. The woman dipped her head in acknowledgement and the frame swung open to reveal a small living room.

"Is that being all?"

Harry smiled down at the elf. "Yes, thank you very much." The elf beamed up at him before fading away to the kitchen to tell the others of the kind new young master.

Stepping through the opening, he glanced around the cozy room. The furniture and walls were neutral shades of beige and browns. There was a small couch, two end tables, and a fireplace. He figured that the colors could be easily changed to suit his style better, but, deciding he was too tired to deal with it now, left that task for another time. Instead, he walked down the short hallway to the bedroom and dove on the bed, burrowing under the soft, thick covers.

As he lay there, he couldn't help but chuckle somewhat bitterly. _I can't even bring myself to be truly surprised about this... This is just another sticky situation fate has seen fit to dump me in. Ah well..._ Harry lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling and trying to control the feelings of loss and sadness that had sprung up.

_"Your future... will not come to pass..."_

Memories swirled around his mind: Hermione admonishing him for waiting until the last minute (most of the time quite literally) before doing his homework; Ron, crowing triumphantly when he beat Harry yet again at another game of chess; sitting at the Weasleys' dinner table, surround by jovial redheads as they all chatted and laughed together; standing in front of the DA, teaching the other members a new, complicated spell; the feeling of euphoria at finally being rid of old Tommy.

_That's all gone now..._ he thought sadly. Turning over on his side, Harry buried his face in his pillow, trying to empty his mind. It was quite a while later before he fell asleep, memories of a now nonexistent future swirling through his dreams.

* * *

It's a bit... ok, really short, and not much happened (and that last part was just a tad bit depressing), but don't fret: the mauraders make their appearance in the next chapter!  
Tease: do you think Harry's future is _completely_ gone, or is there a chance of recovery?  
Please let me know what you think! I appreciate all reviews immensely!


	3. Chapter 3

Again, I'm loving the response to this fic. Thanks for reading :) And the responses to the question I posed at the end of the last chapter are pretty interesting as well ^^ (I especially enjoyed Ex Mentis's answer :D)

Well, on to what you all came here for!

Disclaimer: Yeah, no, don't put me down as the owner of Harry Potter.

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Light spilled in through the cracked curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow. There was a quiet hum resonating through the air, and the room itself seemed almost... anxious. The nervous energy swirled around the large bed, or, more specifically, its occupant. The teen that lay there breathed in deeply and evenly, tangled in the blankets with his glasses askew and his hair splayed everywhere. A small wisp broke away from the teeming energy and softly caressed the boy's face, humming in excitement as he stirred slightly.

Harry burrowed deeper under the blankets. "Ron, g'way... five more minutes..." Seconds passed... Surprised that he had actually been left alone, he cracked his eyes open slightly, adjusting his crooked glasses. A quick glance revealed he wasn't in his dorm, and his heart raced at the unfamiliar surroundings.

The energy in the room seemed to 'tut' in disapprovement before covering the teen, trying to calm him.

The memory of the night before came back to him, and his breathing slowed slightly. Raking his fingers through his dark, tangled hair, Harry swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood. He sighed and stretched, casting the _tempus_ charm. In the air above his wand, 8:30 appeared briefly before vanishing in a puff of smoke. He stood there for a few seconds, waiting for the emotions from last night to come back full-force. Surprisingly, all he felt was a deep-seated calm. Deciding not to dwell too much on it, he glanced around the room, curious of his new room. On the far wall was a ceiling-to-floor window that was currently covered by thick drapes. On the opposite wall stood a large wardrobe, the door open slightly to reveal several casual robes hanging inside.

With a determined look on his face, he walked over to the wardrobe and swung the doors open, pulling out a robe and slipping it on. Sparing only a moment's surprise at how well they fit him, Harry grabbed his wand from under his pillow and walked out of the room to explore.

* * *

A teen with messy black hair sprinted through the hallways, occasionally ducking behind tapestries and suits of armor to access hidden shortcuts. He darted past other students, shouting apologies and grinning sheepishly at their sleepy protests. As he rounded a corner, he smirked triumphantly when the door to the Great Hall came into view. Sliding down the banister, ignoring the annoyed looks from the professors, he burst through the doors and scanned the Gryffindor table. "Ha!" he shouted, noticing Wormtail sitting by himself at their usual spot. He took a few steps towards him, screeching to a halt when he saw Moony walk over from the Hufflepuffs' table with a pitcher of syrup. His mouth fell open at the sight of Moony waving at him smugly across from a smiling Wormtail.

With a growl, he marched over to the table and fell onto the bench with an exaggerated sigh. "How long have you been here?"

"About three minutes," the werewolf replied, reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Wh- How'd you beat me?" James demanded.

Moony just grinned and pantomimed zipping his lips shut.

Peter laughed as James pouted. "Sorry, Prongs. If it makes you feel any better, I thought you were going to win for a while. Someone with the last name Potter has been in the room next to the Hall with Dumbledore for about five minutes." He held up the map as proof.

At this, James perked up, casting the map an interested look. "Really? Think it's my dad?" The color drained out of his face. "You don't think Mum sent him because we gave Snape and his goons forked tongues last week?" he whispered, staring at Moony with wide eyes.

Peter didn't seem too concerned. "Nah, your dad never cares about those pranks. Besides, your dad's name is Charles, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then it's not him. The name says Harry Potter."

"Lemme see that." James snatched the map from his friend and searched for the dot. "Huh. So it does. I wonder who that could be... I supose he could be a distant relation?" The black haired teen tilted his head in thought, then shrugged. "I have so many cousins I can never keep track of them."

Remus nodded sympathetically.

"D'you think he's - "

"_Dude!_ How'd you both beat me here?!"

Whatever Peter had been about to ask was cut off as Sirius plopped down next to him, scowling as he reached for a piece of toast.

"Wow, Pads, what took you so long? You _do_ realize what the purpose of a race is, right?" Remus teased, eyes twinkling.

"Shut up, Moony." He bit into his toast viciously, a nice reminder to those around him that Sirius Black was _not_ a morning person.

"So..." James grinned at his best friend's behavior. "Any news on your mystery guy, Pads?"

Remus groaned and Peter's head hit the table with a dull _thud_. "Not this again!"

Sirius glanced up with a pensive expression. "Nope. I went by the hospital wing last night under the cloak, but Pomfrey'd already released him. I guess he's gone..." He looked slightly put out at the thought.

Remus, on the other hand, brightened considerably. "Thank Merlin! Now we don't have to hear you talk incessantly about him anym - ow! Sirius!" He glared across the table at the long haired teen, rubbing his shin gingerly. "Ponce..." he muttered not-so-quietly under his breath.

"Hey, I heard that, you bloody tosser!"

"Well I said it loudly enough for you to hear it, didn't I?"

"Why you little - "

Beside them, James shook his head and quietly handed Peter a galleon. "I will never understand how you're able to predict their arguments like that."

The brunette just grinned and pocketed the gold. "It's a gift."

The bickering teens and their amused friends were pulled away from the argument when Dumbledore entered the Hall, a dark haired young man trailing behind him. The headmaster stood in front of his ornate chair, clearing his throat and smiling when the students fell silent.

"Good morning, all. I trust everyone has enjoyed their week so far?" Most nodded. "Good, good. Now, I have some interesting news: we have with us a young man who is coming aboard as an assistant to a few of the professors here. He wishes to observe how the seventh year classes are taught, and while he's here, I expect you to be on your best behavior. Mr. Potter, would you mind standing up so the students can see you? Come now, don't be shy."

James heard a sigh come from behind Dumbledore's chair, and stifled a laugh as the man reluctantly came into view. As soon as he laid eyes on him, he choked slightly, hazel eyes widening.

"Hey, Prongs! He looks exactly like you! He _must_ be one of your cousins!" Wormtail exclaimed softly.

James barely heard him over the murmurings of practically the entire female population in the Hall.

"Now then. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal and then it's off to your lessons!" With that, Albus Dumbledore sat down, allowing Mr. Potter to leave the spotlight and sit by the other teachers.

"Well... that's interesting, eh, Pads? ... Padfoot?" James turned to see his best friend staring at the new PA* with an odd expression. Waving his hand near the other lad's face, he called out, "Padfoot? Sirius? Anyone home?"

Sirius blinked and shook himself slightly, face tinted pink. "Um, yeah. I'm... fine." He cast another glance towards the staff table before looking over at Remus with a small smirk. "Oi, Moony?"

"Yes, Sirius?" the teen in question answered absently, flipping through the pages of one of his textbooks.

"Do you happen to recall a certain earlier conversation about a certain mysterious stranger?" the dog animagus inquired all-too-innocently.

"Oh, are we _really_ going to keep talking about it?" he asked in annoyance.

"Well, I figured we might as well, seeing as he's the new professor's assistant."

"Bloody hell." Remus finally looked up from his book, a look of mild disbelief on his face. "You're joking, aren't you?"

"Nope! It's him! I remember that scar on his forehead. He looks a lot better than he did last time though..." Sirius trailed off, once again staring at the youngest person at the staff table.

Remus only rolled his eyes, going back to his reading.

"I wonder how he's related to you, Prongsy?"

James opened his mouth to answer, but paused with a goofy grin as his girlfriend, Lily, slid gracefully onto the bench beside him. "Morning, love," he greeted her.

She smiled brightly, albiet slightly quizzically. "You two are awfully early to breakfast this morning," she said, motioning between James and Sirius. "Normally, poor Remus here has to go forcefully drag you out of bed."

Remus grinned behind the pages of his book.

"Oh, we're not that bad, Lilypad," James protested slightly. "Besides, we had a race this morning."

Raising an eyebrow, the redhead decided not to comment and instead took in how excited everyone in the room seemed to be. "What'd I miss?"

"Well, Dumbledore - "

Sirius shoved a protesting James out of the way with a grin. "That guy I found in the seventh floor corridor yesterday is the new assistant!"

Lily had heard all about Sirius's mystery man and glanced up towards the front with interest. She took in the shock of messy, fly-away black hair and deep green eyes behind round glasses. "Huh. He's quite handsome, isn't he?"

Remus, Sirius, and Peter snickered slightly while James looked more than just a little offended. "Oi, Evans! Remember me? Your gorgeous, sexy beast of a _boyfriend_?"

Rolling her eyes, she elbowed James in the ribs. "Of course I remember you... James, was it?" She smiled at his spluttered indignance, leaning over and giving him a peck on the cheek. "I was merely saying. So what's the guy's name?"

"Potter," Peter supplied helpfully.

"Really? And do you know him?" Lily asked James, who only shrugged and shook his head in response. "Interesting..."

* * *

_~Harry~_

Harry wasn't quite sure how he had been roped into this position: a professor's assistant observing every class his parents were in? He speared a sausage rather fiercely, ignoring the glances from the others at the table. In fact, he had to ignore the glances from just about everyone in the Hall. _It's like fourth year all over again,_ he thought wryly. Suddenly, his skin got this odd, tingly feeling, and he felt the urge to look up. Doing so, his green eyes met silvery gray. A shiver ran down his spine, and he looked away before fully realizing who he was looking at.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter? You seem pale."

Glad for the distraction, Harry looked over at the woman he had come to respect and admire during his years at Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall. Seeing her look into his eyes without the slightest bit of familiarity or recognition was slightly disconcerting, but he did his best to ignore it. Smiling, he replied, "Oh, I'm fine, Professor. I suppose you could say I'm a tad bit nervous." This wasn't untruthful in the slightest; who wouldn't be nervous if they were in his position? "But, please, call me Harry. 'Mr. Potter' makes me feel... old."

The strict looking woman gave him a comforting smile, surprising Harry. "Then call me Minerva. Do you know which class you'll be observing first this morning?"

"Not... exactly." _Whichever one my younger parents and friends are in first._ "Whichever class Headmaster Dumbledore decides."

"I see. If you don't mind my asking, where did you go to school? I assume it wasn't here."

_Wrong,_ Harry thought with a grin. "I guess you could say I was homeschooled in a way. My parents traveled a lot, and they never wanted to leave me behind. I ended up traveling with them all over and learning from many different people." The story Dumbledore had suggested rolled off his tongue with surprising ease.

The rest of the meal passed by fairly uneventfully, Harry chatting with Minerva about which subjects he was most skilled in, which students needed to be watched carefully, and which teachers would be less than accepting of his assisting their class. By the end, Harry was sure he had gotten his old professor to warm up to him once more.

As they stood to leave, she turned to him. "I hope you enjoy your first day. I daresay, with some of the seventh years, your day should be anything but dull." She shot a meaningful look toward the Gryffindor table before saying goodbye and heading off to her class.

Harry grinned. "I have no doubt about that," he murmured, getting excited.

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore called as he walked past. "The first class you'll be assisting today is Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Sorin."

With a nod, the green eyed teen left the hall and headed off to his favorite class, anxious to see how the lesson would go.

* * *

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